Scotti Ranger, Book I: The Lost Ranger
by Lorrie the Ninja Elf
Summary: Ceana MacFhleister has wanted to be an archer like her ancestors her whole life. There wasn't much hope in Scottia, but since moving to Araluen 3 years ago, she's had a wee bit more of a chance. When she's apprenticed to Ranger Will, everything changes. Will she ever get approval from her teacher? Or anyone else for that matter?(Royal Ranger happenings not canon. main character OC)
1. Introduction

_**Introduction**_

This is a story about an OC, just to warn you.

All side notes for this story, and pronunciations of Scotti words/names will be here, in the introduction.

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**Pronunciation Guide:**

_Ceana MacFhleister_: (k-YAH-nah) (Mac-FLY-stur)

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This story is written before The Royal Ranger came out, so anything canon in the Royal Ranger will not appear here.

Have Fun!


	2. Prologue

_**A/N: Hey peeps. I'll cut to the chase with a prologue. My character actually doesn't appear until chapter 1. This is actually kind of angsty. sorry. Enjoy!**_

**Prologue**

_1 year earlier..._

The bearded man pulled the cowl of his cloak low over his face, as he sat in the corner of Wensley Inn. The people at nearby tables avoided his gaze. He was a Ranger. Rangers, it was rumored, practiced black magic. Best to stay away. The Ranger stroked his beard, which had once been black, but had now faded to silver, his dark eyes thoughtful.

Should I or shouldn't I?, he thought. But he knew that it was pointless. Just then, he noticed a movement to his left, near the door. He glanced in that direction, moving only his eyes, and saw another Ranger leaning against the wall. The other man, upon observing that he had been noticed, sidled up to the table and slid into the seat next to the Ranger in the corner.

"Evening, Halt." the newcomer muttered, "Think you could pour me a mug?" he asked, gesturing at the coffeepot.

"Getting lazy in your old age, Crowley?" Halt responded, raising an eyebrow. Crowley grumbled something unintelligible and reached for the extra mug. He poured himself a cup of coffee, then sat back, sighing in pleasure as he took a sip.

"Now, what did you want me for?" he asked.

Halt took a deep breath. Then e began. Crowley's eyes widened as Halt continued his narrative. Finally, about a half hour later, Halt finished, and Crowley let out a low whistle.

"My, you have gotten yourself into a pickle!" he exclaimed, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I don't want to do this at all, but I have no choice."

"You're going to notify Pauline before carrying out this escapade, I assume?"

"Of course! But only, you, Pauline, and Duncan are to know. No one else."

"Not even Will?" Crowley's voice betrayed mild surprise. Halt told his former apprentice just about everything.

"It's too dangerous for him to know." Halt said, the slightest hint of pain in his voice.

"You know, he's a grown man now. You're going to have to start treating him like one at some point. "

"I have to do this, Crowley. He can't know. Swear you won't tell him, or anyone else." Halt said. It was not a plea. Crowley hesitated.

"Alright! I swear!" he said, raising his right hand. "My word as a Ranger."

"Thank you, Crowley."

"Why do I do these things for you?"

"Because you're my best friend?"

"Yeah, okay, we'll go with that. It makes me look less like a ninny than the fact that you can shoot me in a half second!" Crowley said jokingly.

There was a minute or so of silence, as they both thought over what had been said. Then,

"He's going to be heartbroken, you know." Crowley said. There was no need to ask who he was talking about

"I know." Halt sighed. Looking at Halt's troubled face, Crowley saw all the regret and pain wash over it at what was about to be done. Then it was replaced by his usual stoic expression.

"It'll only be for a year or so, anyway." he paused, "Crowley, see that he doesn't do anything rash?"

"Of course." Crowley answered. Both men stood up. Halt payed the bill, and rode home.

A few weeks later, Halt went on a short mission through the swamps. Days went by, then weeks, then a month, and he did not return. Search parties were sent out. Will and Gilan were almost constantly on the hunt. After three months, it was declared that he was most likely dead. Will still rode through the marshes, day after day, searching for his lost friend. His lost father.

But five months after Halt's disappearance, Will was forced to admit defeat. He stopped looking. He threw himself into his work, and took comfort in Alyss.

Will had given up looking.

But he never gave up hoping.

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_**A/N: Oh no! What did I do to Halt? Why would he keep something from Will? What has mysteriously killed him? Is he even dead? Find out somewhere near the end of this fic, about 20 chapters ahead :P**_

_**R&R!**_

_**-Lorrie the Ninja Elf, Ranger 30**_


	3. Chapter 1

**1**

**F**OURTEEN AND A HALF YEAR OLD CEANA MACFHLEISTER YAWNED AND SAT UP. Then she sighed. Three years today. Three years since Mother had died. Ceana remembered all too well. The day they had realized Mother had consumption. Watching her mother waste away. The neighbors coming in black. Having to sell the farm, that had been her home for her entire life up until age 11. Leaving Hubert, her dog, with the MacDougals. Leaving her parent's graves behind her. Leaving Scottia, and coming down to Araluen to live with Aunt Muriel. Learning the Araluen language. Becoming a server at her Aunt's inn, the Juggling Knave.

These memories ran through Ceana's mind countless times as she braided her long, fiery hair. Ceana's hair was a bright red, "true Scott red" her mother had always said, as she pushed a strand behind her daughter's ear. How often had Ceana been told that her father had had the exact same shade? Her eyes she had gotten from her mother. Clear, bright, blue eyes. Ceana donned her favorite skirt, the one sewn from cloth with her family tartan, and felt her heart lighten a wee bit. She went out the door and into the hall with a smile on her face. She would remember the good things, and not the bad, today.

Ceana set down the mugs of ale on the table in front of the farmers.

"Thankee, girl." said one of them, sliding a coin to her. She smiled, slipping the copper into her apron pocket. Then she moved on to the next table. She removed a bowl of beef stew from her tray, and set it in front of the portly lady, then went back to the counter, her tray empty. Aunt Muriel looked up as Ceana set the tray on the bar. She was a smiling matronly woman, of average build, around 40 years old, whose straight, straw colored hair was nearly always pulled back into a bun. Her husband, Ceana's mother's brother, had come down from Scottia and met her in her father's inn one day, marrying her soon afterwards. He had died several years before, leaving his wife a widow with twin toddlers.

She smiled at her niece now.

"You can go on break now, Ceana." she said "The lunch rush is just about over!"

"Thanks, Aunt Muriel!" the girl replied. She ran through the kitchen to the back door, hanging up her apron as she went. Just as she was about to run into the inn yard however, she glanced into the kitchen. Several of the rolls she had made that morning were gone. Ceana went into the kitchen, and looked around. She had an idea of who the culprits might be.

"Jenna! James!" She called. Footseteps sounded from the cellar, coming up the steps, and two rosy cheeked children burst in the cellar door.

"Yes, Ceana?" they said together. She stared at them for a minute. James began to blink a bit more often, while Jenna bent down to scratch her knee. They were uncomfortable, Ceana could see clearly, for she had long ago memorized their tells.

Ceana had found when she was very young, that everyone had a "tell", a way you could figure out how they were feeling, what they were thinking. She was particularly good at identifying people's tells. Tells vary from person to person; some people wear their hearts on their faces, while with other people it is as subtle as what they do with their fingers. Ceana was very good at knowing what people were thinking. Her mother had used to tell her that she had empathy, and could understand a persons heart as soon as look at them.

"It's a gift, Ceana." she used to say, bouncing the girl on her knee, "Don't abuse it."

"Jenna, James, what happened to my rolls?" she asked calmly.

"I don't know." James said, with a show of surprise.

"Yes, you do!" Ceana insisted, she bent so she was at eye level with the twins, who were almost an entire head shorter than her.

"Don't lie to me. You know I can tell when you lie." she said in a low voice. James dropped his gaze.

"We're sorry, Ceana." they said finally. She smiled, patting them on the heads.  
"Good. Now, I'm going on break, you two start making more rolls to replace the ones you ate."

She was in the stable in a flash, and swung herself easily up the ladder into the hayloft. Concealed in the hay was a shortbow. It wasn't very powerful, but Ceana couldn't pull back a longbow. She also retrieved a quiver of a dozen scarlet-feathered arrows. She slid down the ladder.

Fhleistier means "Fletcher" in Scott. All the eldest sons (as well as most of the younger sons, and the occasional daughter.) in the MacFhleister clan had been archers for as long as could be remembered. But Ceana's parents had had no sons. Only her. Her father, an only child himself, had gone to battle a few months before she was born, and never returned. His comrades had brought back his broken bow to Ceana's stricken mother. Ceana had always been determined to carry on the MacFhleistier legacy. She would be an archer. As soon as she had been old enough to lift a bow, she had taken the old short bow from above the fireplace at home. and learned to shoot it. She had kept up her practice, even after moving to her new country. Although she missed her mother, and Hubert, Araluen was full of promise for a girl who wanted to be an archer. Girls were not always expected to stay home and run the house here. Many of those in the Courier service were women. In fact, the Head of the Diplomatic Service here in Redmont was a girl, Lady Pauline.

Ceana pulled the bow to full draw, sighting down the arrow at the target. She adjusted for drop, checked her breath, and released. The arrow whizzed through the air and thudded into the yellow zone, about a half inch from the center.

"Close." she muttered. She withdrew another arrow from the quiver, nocked it, and drew the bow back. She sighted carefully down the shaft. Just as she was about to release, she heard a rustle at the gate behind her. Ceana, who had uncannily good ears, was startled. She released the arrow as she whirled around, and it slammed into the metal edge of the target with a loud _ping_, as the shaft shattered.

Behind her, leaning against the courtyard wall, was Arratez. The grumpy and somewhat mysterious old hunter had visited Milton every few months for as long as Ceana had worked at the inn. No, longer in fact. Many said he was crazy, but Ceana didn't think so. He thought things through too well for that. But he was odd. He always sat in the shadowed corner of the common room at the inn, wrapped in a black hooded cloak, eyes flickering around the room as he sipped his mug of coffee, with his bow across his knees. No one payed much attention to Arratez. No one, that is, except Ceana, who payed attention to _everything._ She was also one of the few who would speak to the man openly, while looking in the eye, when she was not required to. Most were too nervous. He made Ceana a wee bit nervous too, but she wasn't about to let anyone know that. Actually, he made her more than a wee bit nervous. Because Arratez was the only person Ceana whose tell Ceana could not figure out.

She glared at him now.

"You made me miss my shot!" she exclaimed, her Scott accent extremely prominent, as always. "Now I've got to make a new one! Do you know how hard it is to do that?"

"As a matter of fact I do." he replied cooly. Behind him, his shaggy horse snorted.

"Of course you do." he said to the horse. Ceana sighed and set her bow on the table by the wall. She would have to get started now, while there was still free time, as making an arrow was a time consuming and somewhat difficult task.

"Well, there went practice time." she said, pulling the first arrow from the target. She picked up her broken arrow. Although the shaft was completely shattered, the arrowhead and fletching could be reused.

"You need to practice keeping up your concentration." Arratez commented. Ceana sighed again, and set the arrow pieces and her quiver on the table next to her bow, and turned to face him.

"I'll keep that in mind, sir." she said, nodding her thanks at the advice. Arratex was a seasoned hunter, and she was sure he knew what he was talking about.

"Shall I take your horse?" she asked, gesturing at the animal.

"I can take care of him myself." he said gruffly. Ceana nodded, having expected this. Arratez always took care of his own horse. She grabbed a piece of wood from a pile dedicated to the purpose of making arrows, and sat down at the table, removing her knife from her pocket, and began to whittle down the wood. She had to get the shaft perfectly straight, or the arrow would list to one side. In a few minutes, she had become completely absorbed in the work. She was a MacFhleistier, and this was the sort of thing that she was good at. A smile crept across her face as the arrow began to take shape.

45 minutes later, a voice called from the kitchen.

"Ceana!"

"Coming Aunt!" Ceana yelled back. She set the knife and half finished arrow shaft on the table and ran up the back steps into the kitchen. Jenna and James were bustling about at the counter next to the furnace, making apple pies. The 12-year-old twins were smiling, Jenna stirring the filling up, while James made the dough, their shiny straw-colored hair glistening in the flickering light of the furnace flames on one side, and the sunlight streaming from the window on the other. Aunt Muriel was at another table, making stew.

"Ceana, run to the butcher and get me 3 hams!"

"Yes ma'am!" Ceana ran back out the door again. She hid her bow in the hayloft, retrieved a basket from the storeroom, and set off at a jog.

The main street was busy. This was not surprising, as Milton was the second largest village in Redmont. Ceana did not have time to waste. She dove into the traffic, dodging pedestrians, expertly avoiding horsemen and wagons. Faces registered as she darted through the throng; an elderly man with a beard, a young boy and two girls peeking into a sweet shop, a lone man driving a wagon with three dogs in the back. Finally, she made it to the side street she was looking for and ducked around the corner. After that it was relatively simple, and she arrived at the butcher's within minutes. She and the butcher, a man of Tuscan descent, had a friendly chat as the butcher's boy collected the hams. Ceana put the three legs of ham into her expansive basket, secured the lid, payed, and went out. She glanced around as she stepped out onto the street, and froze instinctively, as she saw 5 unpleasantly familiar figures only a few yards to her right.

"Not again!" she muttered. Her eyes roved the street, but she did not move her head, as movement draws the eye. There. Alley about 2 yards to her left. She knew these streets like the back of her hand, and knew she could get home in ten minutes through the alleys.

Here goes!, she thought, and began to move. She moved slowly, quietly, along the side of the building, keeping her eyes on the people. Then she carefully turned her head to look at the alley way and-

SLAM!

Ceana tripped over the gutter, making quite a rustle, and heard a shout behind her.

"You!" Ceana did not wait, she tore around the corner. Left, right, past the blacksmith's, round the corner at the tailor... Ceana stopped stock still as she was about to turn left again, hearing footsteps not only behind her, but around the corner as well. Ceana almost swore, and turned right, dodging a refuse pile. She turned right again-

And came face-to-face with a dead-end.

"Agh!" she growled, wheeling around. But it was too late. Five teens were blocking the entrance. Jespin, Anais, Paul, Lindsey, and Mark.

"Well, if it isn't the Scott Devil!" Paul called contemptuously.

"Good evening! I see you lot haven't gotten any brighter since last time!" Ceana replied, trying very hard to keep the quaver out of her voice. Quickly, she assessed her opponents. Lindsey was scuffing her foot a wee bit, and Mark was fiddling with a button on his shirt. They were, it was clear to Ceana, nervous. She took advantage of the fact, scooping up a rock with her free hand, and setting her jaw. She knew she could escape them. She always did. But their words always reached her before she could. She raised the rock in a throwing position.

"You couldn't hit any of us with that, you're a GIRL!" Jespin laughed.

"Still wearing that silly skirt with the ugly fabric?" Lindsey taunted.

"Why don't you go back to Scottia, with the other barbarians, where you belong?! Scotti Devil!" Anais asked maliciously, her face stretched into a wicked grin. Ceana clenched her fists, so hard that she almost crushed the rock she was holding. Her basket hung at her arm bulkily.

"I'm just as much an Araluen as you." she muttered. But she knew they did not hear her. She scooped up another rock, and hurled it straight at Paul, who was in front. Paul barely had time to register the fist sized stone whistling through the air before it hit him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He fell to his knees, holding his gut. Ceana leapt through the gap he had left in the enemy ranks, and dashed off.

"Sure! Run away! Scotti Dog!" she heard Mark call from behind her. Ceana kept running, her cheeks bright red with anger.

"I'll pay them all back someday." she whispered, as she finally slipped in the gate. She ran into the kitchen, and set down the basket of hams. Aunt Muriel thanked her with a smile, and sent her back into the common room. Ceana did not make it to bed until 10 o'clock that night. When she finally did, she lay awake for hours, the words of the Araluen-born children echoing through her head, whirling around with memories of her mother. Finally, as the last late night guests were leaving the common room, Ceana fell asleep.

_**A/N: Hey all! Sorry this took sooooooooooooooo long. How was Halloween? **_

_**So, that's Ceana, please tell me what you think of her! I'm going to go back at some point and proofread this again. **_

_**R&R! :)**_


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